As Normal As It Gets
by Teobi
Summary: Scott runs into an old friend, and this time she's not trying to kill him. Spoilers for Chain Reaction.


Well. Chain Reaction! Is the Scarion ship sailing or is it sailing? I'm aboard!

Needless to say, this fic has spoilers for Chain Reaction. :-D

As Normal As It Gets

Banks of clouds fell away as Thunderbirds 1 and 2 climbed to cruising altitude and set their courses for Tracy Island. Far below, a lone, purple suited figure watched them go with an air of wistfulness but neither pilot noticed.

Virgil reached for the bowl sitting on TB2's copilot seat and scooped up a handful of popcorn. It was hard to grip such a lightweight snack wearing protective gauntlets- a dozen rogue kernels bounced around the cockpit as he pushed the food into his mouth and chewed noisily, grabbing more fistfuls before swallowing what was already in his mouth, shoving the fresh popcorn on top of the soggy masticated lump that stuffed his cheeks and made him look like a giant blue and green chipmunk. He was desperately trying to get a rise out of Scott, who hadn't stopped talking since they set off. At first all he'd heard was "_Virgil you stole my popcorn_", and "_C__an't I put anything down without someone taking it?_". Then, as Virgil made 'nom nom' noises and chewed even louder, Scott changed tack and started describing the bleak, awe-inspiring conditions inside the huge Shackleton Nuclear Power plant, the clumsy enthusiasm of Cameron and how Cameron had earned his stripes in the end. Without stopping to breathe he then switched to the delicate topic of Fuse. How Fuse had endangered and then helped them because International Rescue saved his life *_because that was what they did_*. Scott thought there was hope yet for the slightly less psychopathic member of the Chaos Crew. "_Mark my words, Virgil, mark my words_." Meanwhile Virgil cleared bits of popcorn out of his teeth, chased kernel skins around his gums with the tip of his tongue, murmured the occasional "mm-hmm" to show he was still listening. The husky pilot of TB2 smiled to himself. Scott's verbal overflow meant only one thing- there was something he was trying to avoid.

Some_thing_? More accurately, some_one_. Someone Virgil and the Mole were becoming familiar with since this was the second time he'd saved them from a decidedly dangerous situation. Virgil knew Scott. Knew him well. "Big brother," he said under his breath, "you couldn't be less subtle if you tried."

Scott sat ramrod straight in the cockpit of TB1. He sat so straight that his back ached. He hadn't sat this stiffly since falling off his childhood horse and landing on his coccyx. He hadn't even sat this straight in the Air Force, and that was saying something. He knew why he was doing it. He was trying to reassert some authority over himself. He was _being a Field Commander_, even though their mission was over.

He could hear his own voice rising and falling, the pitch and tone of it. He heard rapid topic-changing. He had the fast patter of a leader who knew how to multi-task their thought processes. He heard himself ignoring Virgil's annoyingly loud eating noises. He'd get his revenge eventually but for now he'd just let it go. Besides, nothing got a rise out of Virgil more than ignoring Virgil's attempts to get a rise out of him.

Scott's mouth was talking but the rest of him was elsewhere.

"Scott!" She had called his name even before the smoke from TB1s engines had cleared, before he'd taken three steps forward. Not 'Scott Tracy'. Nothing formal. Just "Scott!" as though welcoming an old friend.

"Marion Van Arkle," he'd replied smoothly, surprised at how pleased he'd been to see her. Of course she was a Lieutenant in the GDF now, which he kept forgetting as he tried to be manly and stop her getting into danger, but didn't he do that with everyone? Even the brutish Fuse. "Everyone is worth saving, Lieu_tenant_." He didn't regret being brusque with her when she suggested letting the big thug die. She'd deserved it and she could take it. She'd tried to kill him with a giant mech suit- she could definitely take it. She was as sharp as his Grandma, she could be a Tracy. Not that he wanted her to be a Tracy. But she could be. She was tough and resourceful. She answered back. She was on his side, and he was glad.

He hadn't thought about looking at her, but she was completely encased in a thick radiation suit so he couldn't even if he wanted to. Which he didn't. Only her face was visible through her visor, big dark eyes meeting his as they raced through the plant looking for a way out. It was her sheer presence beside him that affected him more than any way she might have looked. She was tough, her Afrikaans accent made her seem even tougher. But her cheeks were soft and round, her eyes shrewd and inquisitive. She had a tiny mole or freckle on her upper lip. Not that he cared. It wasn't important.

After the danger was over, Cameron, clumsy, likable, personal space invading Cameron raced over to grab them both in the cringiest and most unexpected group hug ever. Suddenly Scott was pushed up against her and she against him, and even through countless layers of protective clothing, she was _warm_. Okay, it was probably radiation causing the warmth, or even Cameron's heavy breathing, but even so.

She had blushed. Mech suit- wearing, potential Fuse murdering Marion Van Arkle had actually blushed, looking down and away, and since he couldn't see her face because now he realised just how short she was (or rather how tall _he_ was), he just stood there awkwardly, clearing his throat, keeping his hands at his sides, feeling things he hadn't felt for some time while he waited for Cameron to stop squeezing them together like he was trying to crush a car. It had been hell. Or heaven. He still couldn't decide.

"See you around, Lieutenant Van Arkle." He'd heard the smile in his voice.

"Hopefully somewhere far away from radiation and dangerous thieves," she replied. He couldn't read her eyes because they were so dark and fathomless so he'd quickly changed the subject. Gathered himself together. Reached for Virgil's backup, both consciously and _un_consciously- because he dared not break their conversation down into two distinct phrases.

"See you around."

"Hopefully."

Tracy Island drew nearer. Scott had never felt so happy to reach the safety of home. His movie was waiting. He could always make more popcorn, that's if Gordon and Alan hadn't finished it all. Maybe he'd go for a swim or catch up on paperwork. He was still talking, words upon words that poor Virgil had no doubt stopped hearing. Fuse would probably try to kill him again one day. Or someone in a giant mech suit. Very soon either he or Virgil would tease Grandma about knowing they were almost home because they could smell dinner burning. She'd scold them and tell them she'd made extra because they'd worked so hard and must be hungry. Everything would slot back into place, normality would be resumed- "_this is as normal as it gets for me_"- and he could stop overthinking for a while.

Hopefully.


End file.
